


weather of wolves

by templemarker



Category: Norse Religion & Lore
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-21
Updated: 2019-04-21
Packaged: 2020-01-23 01:35:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,086
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18539617
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/templemarker/pseuds/templemarker
Summary: They did not need many words between them, certainly not in this; Loki found it strange, for he had left the company of his kin unable to bear the glacier-patience silence of Jötunheimr. Here among the Asynjur and Æsir there was always talk -- boastful, laughing, kind, thoughtful, endlesstalking. It was nothing to wear the form of these young gods for the pleasure of verbose company.





	weather of wolves

**Author's Note:**

  * For [peternurphy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/peternurphy/gifts).



**when the world was young (but not that young)**

Odin was laughing as he tackled Loki to the ground, his eyes sparkling in the midsummer sun. "I thought you could run faster than that, cousin," he said, his voice a fond rumble. 

Loki struggled beneath him, but unless he chose to transform himself he would always remain less powerful than Odin's brawny form. Loki's usual shape, long and lithe and keen green eyes, belied all the strength roiling beneath his nut brown skin. Odin, by turn, seemed to wear all his strength outward for all to see; a closer eye began to understand that Odin's true strength was not in his body but in his mind. 

"Who said I was trying to to beat you, Ástvinur," Loki grunted out, pushing until Odin relented, only slightly, that Loki could turn over onto his back, wrap one leg around Odin's bared calf. 

Odin's grin turned sharp as Loki's wit, and with a breath of a rune from his tongue, the linen leggings Loki wore unraveled; Odin tugged them down, and Loki obliged him, hissing out a curse when Odin's sword-roughened palm began to tug him off. 

They did not need many words between them, certainly not in this; Loki found it strange, for he had left the company of his kin unable to bear the glacier-patience silence of Jötunheimr. Here among the Asynjur and Æsir there was always talk -- boastful, laughing, kind, thoughtful, endless _talking_. It was nothing to wear the form of these young gods for the pleasure of verbose company. 

Yet Odin said more in a look than most said in a lifetime; and knew all of what Loki was, he himself born of the Jötnar but somehow _different_. Loki had only hoped to find someone to talk to. He had been rewarded for his curiosity with a lover and a friend. 

Gasping out his release, Odin smiled, a much smaller and truer thing that ticked up the corner of his mouth. He brought his hand to that smile and licked Loki from his skin, and Loki smiled in return, pleased somewhere deep inside at the thought of Odin holding some of Loki within himself. 

"Come cousin," Loki said lowly, a rasp in his voice, "let me show you how swift I can be."

**the matter of the horse**

Loki had been gone for nearly six months without word when he finally returned, bearing a pearl-grey colt with him. 

Odin had expected him to return with some fanfare, striding into Vingólf with some wild tale of his travels; instead, his chamberlain pulled him aside to let him know Loki awaited him in the stables, late in the evening when none of Asgard would think to ride. 

The colt was beautiful, strange, eight legs somehow working in perfect concert; wordless, Loki held out the reins to him, and Odin took them. 

Then he took Loki's mouth, a hard press that had their teeth clacking together; Loki's fingers dug into Odin's shoulders, fingers denting skin beneath the surcoat worn to keep off the late-summer chill. Odin broke away for a moment to tie the colt's reins to the hook in the stall, running a light hand over its fetlock, pleased. 

"You have brought me a fine gift, cousin," Odin said, and Loki's face took on a queer look, one Odin knew he would investigate further. 

"I also brought myself," Loki said, after a long moment -- too long for Loki's quick wit -- but before Odin could question him, Loki slid from Odin's grasp to kneel at on the hay-strewn floor, loosening the ties at Odin's waist and ducking to take Odin's cock into his mouth. 

It felt good, too good -- all the more so for Loki's long absence from Odin's halls, and Odin's thoughts sharpened on that for a moment before easing into the hot pleasure of Loki's mouth. There would be time for questions later. Odin would not be allowing him to leave so soon, or for so long again. 

Odin's fingers tightened in Loki's hair, and Loki hummed in response as the colt whickered in the stall beside them. 

**the otter's ransom**

Loki ached at all the gold he had lost to these simple fools, the gold ring worst of all; but he had returned, and paid the ransom, freed Odin and Hœnir -- who had immediately begun his long-legged loping walk towards the Bifrost and then Asgard, leaving Loki and Odin behind to collect themselves in Midgard. A moment, alone, together. 

They walked for awhile, Loki looking anxiously at Odin, Odin's one shining eye taking in the sky and the green grass and the path before him; Loki supposed it had been some time, Odin and Hœnir imprisoned at the magician Hreidmar's farm. 

He couldn't quite bring himself to feel too terribly, though. All that gold! 

They came to a grassy hillock -- Hœnir not even a shadow on the horizon, and Odin stopped, throwing off his battered cloak, his thread-worn hat, his weathered walking stick to the ground. He unshod his feet, tugged his shirt over his head, and laid fully in the sun-warmed grass, paled skin bright against the green. He took a fallen leaf between his fingers, crumpling the brown-and-yellow points into dust idly. 

Loki watched him do this, and after a moment sat himself gingerly beside Odin's cloak. 

They stayed there for some time, the silence familiar but somehow not simultaneously. Surely Loki hadn't been gone all that long? 

"Come here," Odin said at last, and cautiously Loki went. Odin first gripped him by the wrist, tugging him close, until they were chest to chest; then Odin grasped his waist, snaking an arm around Loki to hold him in place; then Odin placed his hand, large and rough and hardened with callouses, against Loki's cheek, bringing him to look into Odin's eyes. 

"I am glad you returned," Odin said, and Loki knew that unspoken was the question of whether Loki would have returned at all or left them there. 

Loki had so many words beneath his lips, so many curses and sly stories and honeyed words and barbed jokes. Yet with Odin, as always, they flew away like geese southering in anticipation of winter. Loki kissed him instead of replying, whatever they were to one another pouring itself into the space between them; and when Odin's hand dug deep into the flesh of his rear, fingers sliding into the crease and over his hole, he let all his words go except for one. 

"Odin--"


End file.
